


Logrolling in the Deep

by alphabean



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Jamilton - Freeform, M/M, hamerson, hefferson, jefferlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 17:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5213963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphabean/pseuds/alphabean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the birth of a nation comes the birth of a rivalry, but also new beginnings and a star-crossed chance of love between the most unexpected of men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Logrolling in the Deep

Alexander Hamilton did not risk his life fighting for the birth of a nation so that a man with a temperament as flaming as his hair could destroy it.  
Thomas Jefferson was insufferable. Intolerable. _Unbelievable._  
Hamilton had great plans for the country he built, practically brick by brick. His dreams consisted of buildings that touch the sky, industries that make Britain quiver in her trousers. But before his dreams could become a reality, there was an issue he must address first.  
The economic unity of the nation.  
Largely in debt, the country was splitting at the seams with money it didn’t have. There was nothing united about the United States of America at all. Like Alexander once had to defend the spark of the revolution to a flame, it seemed he now has to rear the fledgling nation into a mature one. He knew Europe regarded America as the joke of a century, but he also knew that he could change it.  
Alexander Hamilton had a plan.  
A financial plan.  
And in that financial plan was the key to the America of the future.  
The only thing that stood in between Hamilton and the future of his country was a man.  
Thomas Jefferson.  
While Hamilton had stood by George Washington’s side faithfully during the Revolutionary War, Jefferson had been in the Virginia State Legislature. While Hamilton fought alongside a battalion of soldiers at the last battle of the war, frantically trying to outsmart the enemy, Jefferson had felt an ocean away. While Hamilton witnessed Britain wave its white flag, Jefferson had merely been a cheerleader in Virginia, giving a cheerful thumbs up.  
Most of his legislation failed, and was only later passed when James Madison revived it. With Jefferson in France, Madison’s productivity increased. Hamilton wished he stayed longer.  
After the constitution was drafted, Jefferson materialized. After the hard job was done, he returned to reap the rewards. Immediately senate approved, he was placed on Washington’s cabinet in the second most powerful executive seat.  
And Thomas Jefferson used that power against Hamilton.  
And Hamilton resented him for it.  
At first, Hamilton tried to be civil. So what that they were leaders of opposite parties? Hamilton paved the Federalist way, as the author of 51 of the federalist papers. Jefferson was a natural born democratic-republican, an eloquent way of phrasing “Anti-Hamilton”. Literally. His disagreement with Hamilton created the party. Despite their contradicting viewpoints, Hamilton believed that change was needed to get the country and its economy moving.  
Jefferson disagreed.  
He believed in an economy revolving around farming. Whatever that meant to him, to Hamilton it meant a leap backwards. Jefferson didn’t believe in Hamilton’s financial plan. Jefferson kept saying--  
“You cannot just create a national bank, Hamilton. It’s not outlined in the constitution. The constitution was drafted for this purpose and it should be followed down to the last comma.”  
“How can you assume such? I was there when the constitution was crafted. I was invited gracefully into the room which no one was allowed to neither escape nor enter. I, thoroughly, listened to every speech, every sigh, every idea, and watched as this constitution you previously mentioned was written for the first time. I watched the ink flow from the pen, I watched the authors ponder its meaning, ponder their decision to add a clause here or there. I watched states bicker and bicker, like we are now, and eventually compromise. My name lies at the bottom of the constitution you mention, and yet, you try to educate me on its content? In fact, do we not sit here, at this meeting of the President’s cabinet? The last time I glanced at your constitution, a cabinet was never mentioned. Are we all law breakers, then? Or are we doing what we must to ensure the continuation of this proud country lawfully?”  
Jefferson’s jaw clenched. The chamber’s air was muggy. There were tendrils of smoke rising, gently floating to the ceiling. Henry Knox, Edmund Randolph, and George Washington were officially tuckered out. At first, the dispute had been entertaining to watch. Two intellectuals, duking out one of the first issues to plague America. But it got old very quickly.  
“Hamilton, please calm down,” Washington instructed his secretary of state. He rubbed his temples with disdain. “The two of you will never reach a compromise like this. I will arrange to have a dinner in a week’s time. The two of you will sit down civilly and you will reach a compromise. If not… there will be repercussions. This meeting over.”  
By the time Hamilton blinked. Randolph and Knox were already gone. Washington gave him a stern look before leaving the room, coattails flapping behind him. Hamilton looked over to his left. Jefferson was slumped down in his chair, his face in his hands. His prematurely greying red hair was neatly combed back, and yet, he still seemed disheveled.  
The emptiness settled on the room like a blanket. Jefferson sighed.  
“Everytime you speak to me, I contract a headache. Your points can be concise, Hamilton, you do not need to elaborate so lengthily. What takes others a few moments takes you a lifetime. Why must you take up everyone’s time with such… useless space? Maybe if you learned to get to the point faster, you would already have your financial plan in action,” Jefferson asked.  
“The only reason my financial plan is not in action is _you_ , Jefferson,” Hamilton said, with simmering discontent under his breath. “You insult me. You insult my plan. Do you think I am nothing more than an uneducated immigrant, blabbering on about nothingness? Jefferson, I was not born into the privilege you were. I reek of new money, but at least I deserve it. I worked hard for it. I was orphaned, abandoned, and left with nothing but my mind and dreams. And yet, here I am, sitting in the same room as a man with his legacy handed to him. Why is that, Jefferson? It’s not luck. It is who I am. What I created out of ruin, I can do for this county. America cannot inherit its legacy. It must create a name for itself, like I did. And you may try to ruin my name, but I will not let you. And you may try to ruin the name of the United States of America, but I will make sure that it will be immortalized.”  
Jefferson looked at Hamilton, his head cocked to the side, as if seeing the man in a new light. Hamilton’s brows were brought together in the center of his forehead. He said with finality, “et tu n’es pas le seule american qui peut parler français.”  
Jefferson looked bewildered. For a moment, Hamilton regretted addressing him in the informal tense, fearing that would cause his hot tempered colleague to lash out. The thought quickly left. He was proud of the stand he took.  
Jefferson lunged across the table. Hamilton was prepared to fight back, his fist clenched, but he could not help but flinch.  
He was surprised when he is not struck. Instead, he felt Jefferson’s warm lips upon his. The moment is gone as soon as it comes. Jefferson lowers himself back into his seat slowly, looking at the ground, ashamed. What he just did was unlawful in every state across the nation, except maybe New Jersey.  
“I’m sorry,” Jefferson mumbled, looking down intently at the cherry table between the two men. For a moment, Hamilton did not see his polar opposite. He saw himself sitting in that chair, looking intently at the patterns in the wood. At the end of the day, they were both dreamers, wishing the best for their country. They both went to college. They were both taught that contrasting opinions are democracy. Their debate was one of the mere building blocks of a democratic nation. Hamilton fought so that he has the freedom to argue his ideas. A sense of respect blossomed inside of Hamilton, a warmth he was not expecting. A great admiration, a desire.  
“No need to apologize, Thomas,” Hamilton said slowly, placing his knee upon the table and leaning towards Jefferson slowly, his hands upon the table to keep him steady. Jefferson looks up to him hopefully. Hamilton remembers a similar look on the face of a friend. The face of a friend, but of someone much more of that. The face of a soldier who fought along side him. The face of an abolitionist venomously opposed to slavery. The face of a young man who died at 27. For once in his life, Hamilton hesitates. He was only a breath away from Jefferson.  
“I suppose we can reach a compromise for your plan, Alexander,” Jefferson whispered and Hamilton closed the gap between them.

Jefferson and Hamilton had not spoken for a month since that night. Washington requested no cabinet meetings until after Jefferson and Hamilton’s dinner, a dinner of which Hamilton both looked forward to with not only giddiness but also dread. The closer the date came, the more frequently Hamilton found himself praying that it would be delayed.  
Hamilton knew better than anyone else that time is not something to be reckoned with. The time will always come, and Hamilton’s financial dinner came swifter than he wanted.  
Hamilton arrived first.  
Jefferson arrived second.  
Hamilton couldn't help but admire the way Jefferson walked. Jefferson was tall, five inches taller than Hamilton and he carried himself proudly. Hamilton was afraid that his influence would put a slouch in Jefferson’s posture.  
Jefferson sat down across from Hamilton. “I trust you’re doing well, Alexander?”  
Hamilton’s heart skipped a beat when he heard Jefferson address him by his first name. He wanted to live in that moment forever, but he was about to ruin it. Because when Hamilton opened his mouth, instead of saying “of course”, like he intended, the truth that had been plaguing him for weeks slipped out instead.  
“I'm pregnant, Thomas.”  
The blood drained out of Jefferson’s face. He looked sick. “Is it… mine?”  
Hamilton rolled his eyes, “Whose else would it be?”  
Jefferson sat up straighter, if it was possible. “We were so careful, Alexander.”  
“I don't know what happened,” Hamilton admitted. “Sometimes mistakes happen.”  
Jefferson became angry. “Is that what we are, a mistake?”  
“Of course not,” Hamilton said softly looking down. He was afraid.  
“Who else knows?” Jefferson replied calmly, breaking the temporary silence that had grew between them. Hamilton heard the fear in his voice as well. Each word was carefully chosen. The wheels were turning in Jefferson’s head at a rapid rate.  
“No one. Not even my wife. Oh, poor Eliza… What will become of her?” Hamilton moaned. A dark look crossed Jefferson’s visage.  
“Nothing, Alexander,” he said very quickly. “You must tell no one. I will speak with you later but now we must--”  
The door to the dining hall opens to reveal George Washington.  
And that night a deal was made. A compromise was created, the first great quid pro quo of American history. Jefferson suffered through a migraine for the majority of it. Whether he was thinking about the news that was revealed to him earlier in the evening or trying to discern Hamilton’s lengthy points, Hamilton would never know. In the end, it was decided that Hamilton’s financial plan would be put into action… and instead of America’s capital being Philidelphia, it would be placed in Virginia. In the south.  
At least it was a compromise they could all live with.  
After the dinner, Hamilton thought he could have a break. He had come clean to Jefferson and he wasn't hated. He had gotten his financial plan through, an effort that had consumed his being for months.  
Unfortunately, the next morning he was visited by a Mr. Aaron Burr, an old friend of his whom he disagreed with almost as much as Jefferson.  
Burr was angry.  
“You sold America to the south?”  
“I did not sell anything, Burr. You know as well as I do that not everyone can have their way one hundred percent of the time. I simply took your advice. The world needed my financial plan. As secretary of the treasury, I have to set an example for all my successors. More importantly, I have to ensure the survival of this country. And if that means that the capitol is in the south, then so be it. It is a small price to pay.”  
Burr did not believe him for a moment. Hamilton was not the kind of man to ‘follow Burr’s advice’ without an underlying factor. “If I had asked you a month ago, Hamilton, if you would make a compromise such as this, you would have laughed in my face. What happened to you? How could you compromise your ideals so quickly?”  
Hamilton sighed. He looked out the window to his right. He looked upon garden where his wife was playing with their children. His eyes were glazed over. “Burr, I cannot expect you to understand. Being in politics… it has changed me. I am no longer the man stuck in his ways, married to only my ideas. I have seen men as intelligent as I am, as educated as I am, and as thoughtful as I am, except they see the world differently. Even though these… men are wrong, it is my responsibility as a member of the cabinet I must consider them.”  
“Hamilton, who owns your heart?”  
“Excuse me?”  
“I know the look of a man in love anew. This newfound affection you have, who is it for, if not Eliza?” Burr asked. Hamilton could not bear to look at him.  
“You are a fool.”  
“I am correct,” Burr huffed with finality. “Who is it? A wife of a cabinet member? Lucky Flucker? Elizabeth Nicholas?” He hesitated before continuing. “Or maybe you’re in love with the same fiddling fool whom you struck your disastrous deal with?”  
Hamilton reflexively gritted his teeth, spun around, and managed to say “Don't talk about him like that.”  
The room became so quiet you could hear a pin drop.  
“You are in love with Jefferson?” Burr asked becoming red in the face.  
“No, no, you misunderstand. We are merely-”  
“How could you choose _him_ over _me_?”  
Hamilton was taken aback. He slowly took a step away from Burr. “I don't understand. I did not choose Jefferson over anyone.”  
“Yes,” Burr said, a manic glint in his eye. “I have been trying for your affections for years. I thought you were happy with Eliza. I thought you were satisfied. I thought you would never come to me, so I married Theodosia in an attempt to make you jealous. Oh, how in vain my attempts were! I finally gave up, but now this! All along, your heart was open to new passions and yet you did not consider me.”  
Hamilton bristled. He stood up straighter. “Then what were you waiting for, Burr? If you wanted me, you should have came for me. What do you wait for?”  
For a moment, Burr looked like he was about to reach out to Hamilton and kiss him. But he did not do that. Burr stood there, looking at Hamilton flat faced. “If I cannot have you, Alexander Hamilton, then no one can. You must pay for your mistake.”

That evening, Aaron Burr publically challenged Hamilton to a duel. Somehow, Eliza was spared the news. Hamilton was relieved. He didn’t know how he could tell her the news.  
Hamilton accepted the duel, of course. His name was worth more than his life. To soil his name would be to soil the future of his children. But his life was a sacrifice worth making. His child’s sacrifice was worth making.  
He wrote down all of this down.  
He wrote down his sacrifice.  
He left enough breadcrumbs to prove that he did not want to shoot Burr.  
He supplied more than enough to leave no question that Jefferson had nothing to do with his death.  
If Hamilton wanted to protect anything more than his own name, it was the name of Jefferson.  
After all, Jefferson’s eyes were the last things he saw that sunrise in New Jersey. His last sunrise. And then there was the crack of a gun. And then nothingness.

**Author's Note:**

> So it's me. The author. Depending on who you ask, it may be better to read a story blind to its author. Some think it muddles its meaning. If that's so, in your eyes at least, disregard this message. If you're sitting there asking yourself "wtf did I just read", I hope I can give you some comfort.  
> Everything you just read was entirely satire.  
> I don't have a taste for fan fiction, to say the least. Usually when I write it, it's to satirize the subject matter.  
> If you don't know what I mean, then disregard that bit. It'll probably offend you if you think about it too long.  
> I'll just say this was meant to be less than two pages. I had too much fun writing Hamilton's dialogue to be completely frank. He's a hard man to characterize and I completely fudged the truth to make him end up with Jefferson. Then when I realized it was getting too long, I ran the story into the ground as hard and as fast as I possibly could. If it seems clunky and unbelievable at parts, good. If I used a trite expression, good. If you had to stop for a second and ask yourself "what am I reading", good. It's like that for a reason. And that reason is called satire. You can draw your own conclusions.  
> I calculate that Hamilton's zombie is still in New York on its journey to kill me. As we speak, it's probably hobbling along its some God forsaken highway trying its best to get to California before I die of natural causes. Some part of me is brainwashed by Lin-Manuel Miranda into thinking that's an honorable way to die. Either way, I get "Here Lies Bean. She was killed by the zombie of Alexander Hamilton because she managed to piss him off postmortem." written on top of my tombstone and that'll confuse people for a really long time so I may become some sort of American folk myth and I'm A-OK with that. And don't say that Alexander summoning himself out of the grave because I soiled his name isn't in character because it TOTALLY is. Anyways, if this story gets enough positive reviews, I'll post the sequel. Oh yes. I have it all planned out. And at this point, I just realized I made Alexander Hamilton pregnant so the laws of nature no longer apply to me. Anything could happen.  
> \- catch me if you can,  
> Bean


End file.
